Honey, I'm Home
by OxVanillaPeachesxO
Summary: Ever wondered what would happen if Sam had to leave Flint because of her weather job? Well...this is the story of what chaos ensues afterwards. And somehow, it's all tied up to this blue BMW following Sam...ugh. Manhattan is just cruel. DISCONTINUED.
1. Act I Leaving iiFlint's POVii

**Me: Wazzup? Ok, I just saw Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs on Saturday and it is the BOMB!**

**Becca: It was like, THE best comedy/cartoon this year (that kids could watch).**

**Steven: I actually peed in my pants! Hilarious!**

**Me: ANYWAYS, *sheesh*, I wanted to right a little one-shot about Flint and Sam. I really needed to get this on paper (or computer, whatev) before it slipped 'ma mind.**

**Butch: Yo, um, there's this guy outside...?**

**Me: Crud.**

**Disclaimer: I will NEVER own Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, though I wish I did (ROCK ON!)**

* * *

**(Flint's POV)**

Before my mom left us (for good), she always used to tell me two things: One, that I would eventually live up to my potential and be a great inventor (which I am, sorta), and two, that the right girl for me would come along, I just had to pay attention.

Now, when I first met Sam Sparks, I was thinking something along the lines of, 'WOW, what I would give to date her!' But, now that we actually ARE dating, things are a little different.

Since she still worked with that weather company in New York, she had to go back sometime, right? Well, she did, a couple of days ago. Now that's two girls (or women, whatever you wanna call them) that are gone in my life. Well, technically, Sam's not gone forever, like Mom is. No, she's just "temporarily" stationed in a country far away from my small town, ChewandSwallow. Right.

As I was saying, she left a couple a days ago, but we did something really special. You remember that jell-o house that Sam and I played around in? Before the food storm? So, it turns out, that it wasn't destroyed in the storm, and it's still standing tall and beautiful, though it had a small piece of a chocolate donut stuck in it's side. We went back to the house, though Sam thought it was a good idea to bring Steve along (I have NO idea why). We bounced around in that house until Steve decided he was going to pee all over the floor. So that ruined the fun. But Sam didn't mind, she was just glad we had a good time. We squeezed out and sat in the clearing, staring at the orange, pink and purple sunset. Sam touched my arm and nodded to Steve, who was snoring lightly beside us. I smiled and we stood up. She led me to a space between the trees, so that we could still see Steve, but had some privacy as well.

"Um, Flint?" I looked at her beautiful face. Her blueish-green (I'm sorry if I got it wrong, I can't remember what color her eyes were) eyes were staring at the ground, trying to burn a hole in it. I stepped closer to her.

"Yeah?" She still wouldn't look at me, so I knew something was up. I tilted her chin up with my hand and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. Whoa, I really was getting better with this romance stuff!

She took a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh. "W-well, um, y-you know my old w-weather station?"

I looked at her curiously. She hadn't mentioned it since she first put on her glasses. Which, by the way, have I told you she looked HOT in them? "Yeah, the reason you came here and met me?"

She smiled a crooked smile, which made me chuckle. "Well, ya see..." She turned away from me. I felt a lump rise in my throat. What the heck was she talking about?

"Sam, c'mon, you can tell me. I can handle it. After all, I am ChewandSwallow's genius, right?" I put on a fake smile, just to please her. Some clear liquid rolled down her rosy cheeks. Wait a minute...are those...tears? She wrapped her arms around my neck and ran a hand through my hair. I shuddered. Something about that...felt right. I fastened my arms around her waist and smiled encouragingly.

"Well, Ok. But if you don't ever want to talk to me again, I'll understand." She mumbled something into my chest. I lifted her head up. More tears, now a slow waterfall, were cascading down her flushed cheeks. I wiped them off with my thumb. "I...We...Oh Flint, I have to leave!" I froze and the world just seemed to stop. No sound went in my ears, not even Sam's sobs that were buried in my chest. Memories of me and my mom flashed through my mind and I sat down on a tree stump, with Sam in my lap.

"S-Sam, this i-isn't some k-k-kind of an A-April F-Fool's Day j-joke, right?" I ran my hands through her soft hair, possibly for the last time in a LONG time. April Fool's Day joke, right? A sick, cruel April Fool's Day joke. Yeah...

Sam looked up at me through bloodshot eyes. I was too shocked to cry. This wasn't happening to me. I just have the worst crappy end of the luck pie. She just shook her head and tightened her grip on my neck. She had a vice grip, but I ignored the searing pain. She couldn't leave me. Not now! Not when I'm still recovering from my own mother's death! So, we sat there rocking back and forth, Sam sobbing her eyes out, me wondering if I should commit suicide or not. Hmm...nah, Dad and Sam would be devastated. But I could become a cutter...

Sam seemed to read my thoughts, because she looked up with a shaky glare. "I-I-I k-know t-t-that I'm l-l-l-leaving, b-but F-F-Flint L-Lockwood, y-you W-W-WILL NOT become a s-suicido f-freak, g-g-g-got that?" I couldn't comprehend the words at the time, so I nodded absently and she re-buried her face in my chest with sobbing-hiccups. I was slipping, slipping into a deep lake, full of depression and anguish, and I could not resurface.

* * *

**Me: 'K, changed my mind, it's gonna be a three-shot. The next one will be in Sam's POV, on how she sees the separating. And yes, for any of you Twilight readers, I used that quote from when Edward left Bella. But that's a different topic.**

**Steven: Ya know, if Becca died, you would have no control over me?**

**Me: Hahaha, I don't think so. BUTCH!**

**Butch the bodyguard: Yo.**

**Me: Yeah...Ima need you to lock up that chainsaw, if you don't mind.**

**Butch: *nods***

**R&R!**


	2. Kidnapped iiSam's POVii

**Me: Sorry I didn't update sooner, I'm sick with Strep Throat (kinda) and so, I really wanna put in Sam's POV before I die (seriously).**

**Chapter 2**

(Sam's POV)

My life officially sucks.

Ever since I left ChewandSwallow ("For your own good" as my stupid boss would say) for my idiotic job as a weather woman, I've been a wreck. It's fall now, and it's been a couple of months after I left Flint. Believe it or not, he actually got a real cell phone (thank god, 'cause he took losing his homemade one really hard), but made some "minor" adjustments. It still has the, um, well, the _body _of a regular cell phone, but it has a weird antenna and it can get stuff from his big computer and lab and crap like that. Jeez.

Anyways, when Manny and I left, it was a really long journey because we got caught in a big storm, and _man, _I'm telling you, those sea storms are **NOT** a joke. Whatever, and when we got back to New York, we felt like absolute crud. I was totally drenched, cold, and shivering when I arrived at my house. It's a cozy little three-story brick house with a big backyard, privacy, and a heated pool. I walked straight into my shower, and took a really, really, **_REALLY _**long, hot shower and wrapped up in my dark fuchsia robe. I made a cup of hot cocoa and sat down in the den. I turned on my plasma screen TV (if you're wondering how I could afford all this, my mother and father left behind a big fortune of diamonds to me) and snuggled into my black loveseat.

Then the phone rang.

I nearly jumped through the roof, remembering how loud my phone was, and grabbed it. I swear, my eyes became spotlights or something when I read the caller ID.

It was Flint.

I shrieked in happiness and pushed 'on'.

"Hi Flint!"

"Hey, Sammy!" I rolled my eyes but smiled.

"Flint, you know I don't like being called that," I laughed and muted the TV.

"Sure, sure. How was the ride back?"

I groaned. "Ugh, you wouldn't BELIEVE it! Gosh, I bet you if Manny hadn't had been there, I swear I would've got tossed over board!"

I could almost see him flinch through the phone. "Are you Ok? How bad was the storm?"

"How'd you know it was a storm? I didn't tell you."

"Lucky guess. Seriously though, are you Ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. You should be worrying about Manny though. He had to drive through the whole thing without a break. Poor guy." I shook my head sadly.

"Is he gonna be Ok? Oh, and when you see him again, can you tell him I said thanks?"

"Yes, and Ok. How's Steve?" He laughed.

"Awesome. He's been trying to eat some leftover gummy bears, and let me tell you, that's NOT going well. I know he really misses you, Sam. I miss you even more."

"Aww. I miss you too, Flint. How's your dad?"

"He's Ok. I think he's sad your gone because you were a lot like Mom." Something rustled on the other end, and I guessed he was shrugging.

"Really? Oh gosh, I feel so guilty. Tell him that we'll always be in his heart, Ok?" I looked at the clock. It was 11:46. "Listen, Flint. I have to go to work at 7:30, so I should be heading to bed right about now."

"Oh." He sounded hurt. I frowned.

"Aww, c'mon Flint, please don't be sad. I'll call you when I get home from work, Ok?"

"Sure, sure. Um, Sam?"

"Yeah?" I was confused. What the heck was he going to tell me?

"I...er...um, nevermind. I miss you."

"Ok?" What was that all about. "Bye-bye, Flint."

"Bye, Sam." And he hung up. I sighed. He was keeping something important from me, and I was going to find out, one way or another. I yawned and clicked off the TV, shut the blinds and walked sleepily to my bedroom. I crawled into the king-sized bed and fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.

* * *

**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**

"Gah!" I screamed and slammed my fist down on my black and purple alarm clock. It shut off and seemed to glare at me. I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the digital red numbers.

7:06.

"Oh no! I'm going to be late!" I cried and got tangled in my sheets. After ripping myself free, I quickly shoved on some clothes and raked a brush through my hair before glancing at myself in the mirror. Since I got contacts, the world has been clearer, but Flint still liked me better with glasses. I sighed and gently pulled out my jell-o scrunchie and rested it on my pillow. I brushed my teeth, ran down to the garage, climbed into my black Mercedes(don't tell anyone, but I REALLY like the color black) and drove off. I popped in my Shania Twain CD and turned to Honey I'm Home.

_The car won't start-it's falling apart  
__  
I was late for work and the boss got smart_

_My pantyline shows-got a run in my hose_

_My hair went flat-man, I hate that_

_The car won't start-it's falling apart_

_I was late for work and the boss got smart_

_My pantyline shows-got a run in my hose_

_My hair went flat-man, I hate that_

I smiled and sang along with the lyrics as I turned onto Broadway. A blue BMW was behind me.

_Just when I thought things couldn't get worse_

_I realized I forgot my purse_

_With all this stress-I must confess_

_This could be worse than PMS_

I laughed when she sang that. Some days, stress could be worse than PMS. Funny.

_This job ain't worth the pay  
__  
Can't wait 'til the end of the day_

_Honey, I'm on my way_

_Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!_

"Yeah, I know how that feels," I grumbled as I veered onto Sunset.

_Honey, I'm home and I had a hard day_

_Pour me a cold one and oh, by the way_

_Rub my feet, gimme something to eat_

_Fix me up my favorite treat_

_Honey, I'm back, my head's killing me_

_I need to relax and watch TV_

_Get off the phone-give the dog a bone_

_Hey! Hey! Honey, I'm home!_

I took a quick peek in the rearview mirror. The blue BMW was still following me. _Weird. _I thought but shrugged it off. I was just being paranoid. Right? As I pulled into the parking lot of News Channel 10, I cut off the radio and turned off my car. The same blue BMW pulled into the parking lot along with me, and boy, you don't know how much I was sweating. Even my mascara was running. I took about ten deep breaths and hopped out the car. The BMW pulled into a spot about 7 spaces away from mine. If I hurried, I could get to the door before whoever was in that car got out. I prayed silently that I wore my black Converse high-tops today as I ran. I didn't bother to look back as I entered, but I froze.

My snobby, evil archenemy from high school, Sandra, was talking to the receptionist, Terry.

"So, anyways, I said to him, "Well, why don't _you _eat it?" and he was all like, "No way, it smells like Gary!" Then they busted up while I walked past them, hoping to go unnoticed, but of course, God hates me.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little Sammy? Oh, you got rid of your nerdy glasses?" I turned around and smiled icily at her.

"Wow Sandra, is it just me, or did your hair get even faker?" I shot back and pressed the 'up' button on the elevator. Sandra huffed. See, she can dish it out, but she can't take it.

"Loser," she grumbled and my cell phone rang. I took it out and answered.

"Flint?" He chuckled on the other end.

"How'd you know it was me? Was it that obvious?" I laughed and smiled at Sandra.

"Yeah, it was. I missed you."

"I missed you too, Sammy. Are you at work yet?" he asked.

"Yup, just about to go."

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yes, Flint?" I mouthed 'It's my boyfriend' to Sandra. Her nostrils flared and her eyed flashed an angry red. I smiled at my handiwork. "Um, well, I...I...l-l-l-" A big boom interrupted what he was saying and I gasped.

"Flint?! Flint, can you hear me? Baby, are you Ok?!" I cried into the phone, wishing I could be there right now. Someone groaned in agony and I panicked.

"Flint! Is that you? Oh my gosh, STEVE!" I yelled into the phone and Sandra screeched, "You have _2 _boyfriends?!" I was about to shake my head when some raspy voice answered the phone.

"If you ever wanna hear from your little boyfriend again, come to ChewandSwallow with 50,000 dollars by tomorrow."

"Huh? Who is this? Where's my Flint?! Hello?!" But they had already hung up. I dropped my phone and stared at the wall.

"No...no, no, no, no, no, NO! Dammit! How the hell am I supposed to come up with 50,000 dollars by tomorrow?! Shit, shit, shit, shit..." I trailed off, running out the door and to my car. I didn't bother to say 'sorry' when I plowed over Sandra. I didn't care, because right then, Flint was in danger, and I had to figure out how to get him out.

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**Me: Huh? You likey? A little twist in my three-shot doesn't hurt anyone, now does it? Well, I'm going to update some other stories while I eat the rest of my French toast waffles (yummy in the tummy, yo!)**

**R&R!!**


	3. Beaten and Bloody iiFlint's POVii

**Me: HELLO ALL YOU CRAZY PSYCHOPATHS (sp?) AND DEMONS, IT'S TIME FOR...CHAPTER 3!!!!!!!**

**Audience: Woo.**

**Me: WHAT WAS THAT?!**

**Audience: WOOOOOOOOO!!!!**

**Me: Now that's more like it. Today, yo, we'll be reading about Flint Lockwood's kidnapping from his POV, and how Samantha Sparks is going to save him. *wiggles eyebrows* **

**Disclaimer: Oh, I don't own CWACOM (pronounced kwa-COM) or any of it's peeps, but I do own, THIS PLOT! (sung to the music of Jingle Bells)**

**Chapter 3 (Yo!)**

(Flint's POV)

You know that feeling you get when something really bad's about to happen, like that bubbly feeling in your stomach?

Well, I got that when I was working on a new invention in my lab on Saturday night (at 2:48 in the morning). Steve was curled up in my bed, sleeping like a log. We had a long day and he was so tired that when I offered him a gummy bear, he shook his head and collapsed. Poor monkey.

I was trying to fix my Instant Money Tree, so that when it was done, it would rain money (wow I haven't learned.) Anyways, when I tightened the last bolt, the feeling came and I stood up. Now it was worse.

_Really? What's up with this feeling? Oh no, did Dad try to cook again?_ I heard something move behind me but I shrugged. Probably nothing. I decided it was a good idea to call Sam now, to see if she was at work yet, so I went out the door, into the Port-a-Potty tube and went into the house. Dad was at work, so nothing was burning. I grabbed my phone off the couch and pressed speed dial. I put Sam on and it started to ring. Sam picked up.

"Flint?" she asked, like she knew. I chuckled.

"Was it that obvious?" Jeez, am I calling to much? Oh God no, I don't wanna be a clingy type of person.

But it seemed like she didn't mind. "Yeah, it was. I missed you."

She did? "I missed you too, Sammy. Are you at work yet?" She probably would be, considering she said so last night. Then I remembered our conversation and gulped. Should I really tell her I loved her? I figured it out about 5 minutes after she left. I might have been going to fast, but I didn't care, because I loved her so much. This is going to sound really cheesy, but she's like my everything, my angel, my soul, so yeah.

"Yup, just about to go." It was now or never.

"Hey Sam?" Please don't get mad, Sam. PLEASE!!!

"Yes, Flint?" Don't chicken out Flint, c'mon, be a MAN! (Yeah, right)

"Um, well, I...I...l-l-l-" This big explosion cut me off and someone hit me on the head from behind. I dropped the phone and fell to my knees. Whatever it was, the thing the hit my head hurt like heck! Jeez, I hadn't felt that much pain since when I had to destroy my food machine! This warm, crimson wet stuff rolled down my head. Oh, come on, blood?!

I thought I heard Sam gasp. "Flint?! Flint, can you hear me? Baby, are you Ok?!" I groaned in pain cause my head was throbbing and stinging at the same time. That's gonna leave a mark in the morning.

"Flint! Is that you? Oh my gosh, STEVE!" Sam shouted, but Steve was in the lab, sleep. Darn. I think someone else on the phone screeched, "You have _2 _boyfriends!?!" but I didn't care. The person who hit my head tied my arms and legs with some really rough rope I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out, because they put duct tape on it and hauled me outta there. Lemme tell you, I squirmed and wriggled like a worm, but the dude holding me was strong, and then he put a bandanna over my eyes, so all I saw was pitch black darkness. He said something, and I figured he was talking on the phone, but I could only make out, "See..boyfriend...ChewandSwallow...50,000...tomorrow."

I think I must've blacked out, because I couldn't hear anything. Man, I hope Sam's gonna be Ok. It sounded like a ransom to me, the guy, and that much money?! Jesus.

* * *

I woke up some hours later (or it could've been days, I dunno) and my head and arms were stinging and throbbing in sync, like some pain drum on my body. I tried to move, but then my arms started throbbing even more, and I probably could've screamed bloody murder right then and there, but I was dizzy and I felt acid in my mouth, and cloth. I heard some people talking in deep voices, maybe two or three, so I took a deep breath and focused.

"Be here...1 hou...50,000 dolla...kill bot...Austrai..." a first guy said. They were in another room, I guessed, and with the door closed too. I strained my ears harder.

"No...Russi...sell dru...take Lockwo...invent cra...more money..." another guy said. They were going to take me to Russia to sell drugs and invent stuff?! Well. Someone pounded on a wall or something and the two men stopped talking. A feminine voice yelled fiercely into the room, "I'm here, you jackass, and I want my Flint, dammit!" Now I could here _that _real clear! Was it Sam?

I tried to call out, but my mouth started to hurt and I tasted blood. Really? What the heck did they do to me? A heavy guy pounded over to me while another stomped to the door and opened it. The guy ripped off my bandanna and my duct tape and I yelled. That hurt, man! Sam was standing at the door, her green eyes glowing with anger and she looked mad as heck! If I had to take a bet on who looked angrier right now, the devil or Sam, I'd say Sam. She glanced at me and gasped.

"Oh my god, Flint!! What did they do to you! You made him BLEED?!" She shoved past the big, burly guy at the door and walked up to me. I tried to smile, but I know it came out as a grimace. My mouth began to taste like blood again. Sam snarled at the guy holding me, and even my head snapped up. Jeez, when girls wanna be cruel, they can be cruel! The guy next to me flinched.

"Where's the money?" he asked in a raspy voice. I figured he was the one who talked to Sam on the phone. Sam growled and took out a brown paper bag. She threw it at the guy at the door and he caught it with some trouble.

"Now give me my Flint and Steve and let me out of here NOW," she snapped and shoved the man next to me roughly. He stumbled back and walked over to the man with the money.

"Oh Flint, are you alive? Oh no, look at your eye! It's a human black hole! Oh, look at Steve! His foot is bleeding! Ugh, we need to get you two outta here," she said while unbuckling something. I glanced over to where her hands were and she was unfastening, no, more like ripping, a chain off my arm. She did the same with my other arm and legs, and did the same to Steve. I slid down the wall and groaned. My legs burned and Sam ran back over to me. She draped my stinging arms over her shoulders and picked up Steve with her free hand. We walked over to the door (with some pain) but the two men blocked our way.

"Move. The. Hell. Over. NOW." Sam punched the first guy in his face and he yelped in pain, stumbled back and Sam kicked open the door. She guided us out and slammed it back. A black Mercedes was waiting out front. Sam put Steve in the back seat gently and tucked me into the passenger seat. She climbed in the driver's seat and turned on the car while taking out her black and purple cell phone. Sam dialed 9-1-1.

"Um, my name is Sam Sparks, and- yeah, that's me! Anyways, my boyfriend- yes, him, and his..._pet _monkey Steve were kidnapped and held for ransom in- no, ChewandSwallow, not ChewandFollow. Yeah, there bleeding and I think Flint broke his arm, and might have a head concussion. Ok. A black Mercedes-Benz. Ok. Thank you." She hung up and squealed out of the parking lot, making my stomach lurch.

"Sorry if that hurt, we've gotta get outta here before those jerks figure that it's fake money," she said calmly and smirked. I cocked my eyebrow, which hurt too. I cleared my throat.

"How...bad do I...look?" I whispered in a hoarse voice. She frowned.

"Well, you're still the hottest guy I've ever met, but...you look like you just got ran over by a semi-trailer carrying 23 grand pianos going over a newly paved highway." I cringed. I looked that bad?!

"So...pretty messed up, huh?" She smiled a crooked smile.

"Yeah. But you're still my Flint. I was really worried about you Flint! I mean, it's one thing to be kidnapped, but while I'm not there?! And look at you, you're bleeding all over my upholstery!" I looked down, and that was a bad choice.

"Sorry." She rolled eyes and her grin broadened.

"You really think I'm worried about my car when you're bleeding like crazy?! Jeez, it's like you don't know me!" she joked and pulled to a stop. I glanced out the window and saw that we were at the dock. I'm guessing I had a puzzled look on my face, because Sam pointed to her cell phone.

"They're picking us up with a medic helicopter."

"Oh!" Then I looked at Steve. He was pretty bad, and he was in a rough sleep.

"Up, up and away with us, huh? What about your car? And Steve?" She shrugged.

"I guess they're going to pick it up on a boat or something. Steve's coming with us, 'cause there's a vet waiting on the 'chopper. Does that explain everything?"

"Pretty much." We sat in a comfortable silence and waited until the helicopter got here. We knew because a loud, fluttering-like kinda noise came from above. Sam helped me and Steve out of the car and the vehicle landed next to us. Two guys wearing white suits with red crosses on the back scrambled out with a stretcher. I backed up a bit. I could still walk, right? Did I **_really _**look _that _bad?! Jesus. Sam grabbed my hand and squeezed it lightly, so it didn't hurt. I smiled back and glanced nervously at the doctors. One of them stepped up.

"Hi. I'm Gerome Krailer. Um, if you don't mind, could you get on the stretcher, please? You're bleeding all over the place and you might die of a loss of blood," he said and Sam nodded encouragingly and gave me a gentle nudge towards the stretcher. I sighed and climbed on with her help. They rolled me onto the helicopter and Sam hustled in after me with Steve in her arms. She sat down on a seat and smiled. The pilot handed her some headphones and gave me some, too. Nice guy.

"So, how are you feeling? Your blood's flowing a little slower."

"Um, I feel like crap. Say, could you get me that glass of wat-" Something sharp jabbed into my side and I yelped in surprise. Then my vision began to get cloudier. Sam jumped up hazily and shouted something to this other guy, but I couldn't fully understand it. Then everything went black.

* * *

**Me: Ok, now this is just a story, not a three-shot! But whatever, I SWEAR, the next chapter WILL BE THE LAST ONE!!!! I swear on this fanfic's GRAVE! MWUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!**

**Peace out home dawgs!**

**R&R! (If you don't, Chucky's going to come get you on Halloween!)**


	4. Curse you, Sandra! xxNormal POVxx

**Me: OH! What is UP people? I'm back, and I've decided this is going to be a full-blown fanfic. Remember that blue BMW back in chapter 2? Well, I've decided that I want to explain more about it, so the rest of my story is going to revolve around it, and why the heck it's following Sam. Sorry for you people who just wanted a little three-shot, but sometimes, I really can't help myself. :)**

**Chapter 4**

(Normal POV)

When Flint was knocked out, Sam immediately got angry.

"What was that for?! Why'd ya knock him out?! He was doing great!" she yelled at them. Gerome put a hand on her shoulder. She slapped it away.

"Miss...?"

"Sam," she growled viciously. Gerome nodded.

"Miss Sam, we had to knock out Mr. Lockwood because we need to run some painful tests on him before we can get him into the ER."

Sam shook her head stubbornly. "Why can't you just put him in the ER right away?! You can see with your own eyes that he's hurt! For God's sake, he broke his LEG! And he's gushing blood like a waterfall!" She thought the whole thing was prodigious. _Doctors nowadays,_ she thought furiously to herself. She just couldn't assimilate why the heck they needed to run tests on Flint to see if he was really hurt.

"Well, ma'am, if we could just explain-"

"Just shut up. If Flint doesn't wake up, I'll sue you for everything you're worth!" She cuddled Steve closer and grumbled incoherently. She would try to stay tractable, for Flint. As she settled down while the pilot took off, her mind wondered to everything that had happened to her recently. On the way here, the blue BMW that had followed her to work had almost crashed into her car, and she was just having a bad day after it. Flint could be dying, Steve could be dying, she had spilled coffee on her carpet, and Manny was in the hospital for pneumonia. She sighed inwardly. Curse her bad luck. Curse it.

8-0-8-0-8-0-8-0-8-0-8-0-8-0-8-0

Two hours later, she was sitting in the waiting room of a Manhattan hospital (she was too exhausted to bother trying to find out the name), waiting to hear word of Flint and Steve. Steve was in the veterinarian's office, and both of them were in critical condition. Steve had less of a chance of surviving than Flint did, because the men had beaten him harder than they'd thought.

Her life was horrible.

She sat somberly, holding a Styrofoam cup full of relinquished French Vanilla coffee. An overly-cheery blonde nurse had offered her a sandwich, but she declined with a wraithlike shake of the head. She didn't have an appetite for anything.

And if her life couldn't get any better (NOT), Sandra walked through the door with an evil smirk on her face. Sam glanced down at her cold cup of coffee then glanced at Sandra's shirt. Hmm. Pink and brown went together, didn't they? Sandra flipped her strawberry-blond hair and flounced up to Sam.

"What's up, loser? I heard that your little _boyfriend_ was in the hospital," she sneered, pouring lemon juice into Sam's wounds. Sam sighed.

"Jeez Sandra, why do you keep tabs on me like that? I'm starting to get the wrong feeling," she said, sounding antagonistic without even trying. Sandra huffed.

"Gosh Sammy, I just thought it would be nice to talk about your almost-dead boyfriend!" she said with mock sadness, grinding salt in with the lemon juice. _Might as well go ahead and add hot sauce,_ Sam thought wearily, _ya know, to finish the dish. Sam's Life Wounds: Spicy and burning!_

"Just shut up Sandra, and, I don't know, go find a hobo to date in the alley," Sam growled icily and stood up. Her coffee seemed to have a sign over it saying: Dump me on her shirt! Sandra pouted and chucked a piece of paper at Sam, who caught it with ease. As she read it, her eyes widened and her jaw cracked open with a loud _pop!_ and Sandra smiled evilly.

_Werty's Funeral Homes_

_First month is free along with catering,_

_bring lawyer and certificate of death._

_759-2094 (212)_

Sam dumped her entire cup of coffee on Sandra's head, and Sandra started screaming. People stared at them while Sam crumpled the piece of paper into a tiny ball and shoved it into Sandra's mouth.

"What the hell did I ever do to you? God, you've been wearing me down since high school! Why can't you get a life and leave me alone?!" Sam shouted and Sandra opened her mouth to say something, but she looked as if she had thought if something. Suddenly, she started bawling like a little three-year old and ran out the door. People glared and shook their heads sadly at Sam while they walked out to comfort Sandra. Sam slumped back down in her chair and put her hands on her face.

Her life was horrible, as she had said before.

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**Me: Ok, I know, really short chappy. But I just wanted to get out this before zombies come to my house and kill me in the middle of the night (I'm going to see Zombieland). Sorry if you readers get insanely mad at me, but if you do decide to kill me, bury me next to my great-great-grandpa at Arlington Cemetery (he was a soldier). Peace out home dawgs!!**


	5. Amnesia? xxNormal POVxx

**Me: Guess what, chicken butt? It's time for the next update in CWACOM. (teehee) It's funny saying that...but whatev. ON WITH!**

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(Normal POV)

While Sam was getting chewed out by everyone in the lobby, Flint had just woken up in his hospital room, and he really felt like the worst kind of crap imaginable (which is saying something).

He absolutely could _not _move his right arm, and his headache made his head ring like an overused gong. The poor inventor couldn't see straight, and everytime he heard a voice, it sounded like they were drunk. In fact, he couldn't remember how to make a simple compass, which meant his brain was busted.

The doctors were seriously worried that the shot they gave Flint might have given him amnesia, or some form of it, because he didn't even remember who was waiting anxiously outside for his news, a certain redhead. **(I don't really know if you can call Sam a redhead, but I didn't wanna call her the 'orange-headed girl' all the time. Sorreh)**

Currently, Flint was debating over whether or not his head hurt more than his snarling stomach, until he decided that the pain in his tummy was a _tad _bit worse than his slowly depleting headache.

_I really need some food..._ Flint thought and tried to get up, but ended up falling back into the semi-comfortable hospital bed after his belly gave a dangerously loud "Arrrrrrrrghhhhh".

Flint sighed and scratched his head, glancing around the bland hospital room, finally managing to stand up. There was a giant window on the far wall, opposite his bed, and it gave a view of the ten floors below him. It was a relatively large hospital, though Flint didn't really care. Then a weird thought hit him as a redhead walked below him, looking like an ant.

He had some very fuzzy memories of a girl with reddish-orange hair, and that she was...perfect. The young inventor smiled to himself, and racked his brain for her name.

_What's her name, what's her name? _Flint said to himself, frustrated that his damaged brain couldn't come up with any answers. She had to have a name, didn't she? Of course she did, every human has a name, right? _So then what's her freaking name?_

Flint finally gave up and sighed wearily and sat back down. That boosted his headache above his growling stomach, and he groaned and clutched his head, but a sharp pain in his elbow brought his arm back down to the bed, and the poor boy sighed slightly again. He was _really _broken, and there wasn't a thing Flint could do about it.

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Sam looked up from her hands when a female nurse came rushing at her, carrying a sleek clipboard.

"Miss Sparks?" Her high-pitched voice was slightly nasal, and it made Sam's ears ring.

"Yeah?" the weather girl asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Uh, Mr. Lockwood is ready to see you, is that--" Sam didn't give the blonde a chance to finish her sentence, because she jumped up and grabbed the nurse's arm.

"Where is he? How's he doing? Is he gonna be--" The nurse laughed.

"Calm down, I'll take you to him now." Sam rolled her eyes and followed the nurse (who she found out was Janet by sneaking a quick peek at her clipboard) to the elevator and pressed a button that had a number 13 on it.

Surprisingly, Sam found out that there was no annoying elevator music, which she thought was common in Manhattan hospitals. Oh, well; it wasn't like she missed it.

Sam and the nurse exited the elevator and Janet pointed to a door that said "Room 210". "Mr. Lockwood is in there. Be cautious though; he might have amnesia."

The redhead nodded and gently pushed open the door, clicking it shut behind her. Flint was sleeping somewhat peacefully on the cramped bed, and Sam smiled inwardly. He looked so relaxed that she almost walked back out, not wanting to disturb her love. _Almost._

Sam stepped to the bed, taking care not to make too much noise while crossing the room. She grinned at how much wilder his hair had gotten, and took her jell-o scrunchie out of her pocket. The girl glanced at it, not really knowing whether she should slip it on or not. If, indeed, Flint _did _have amnesia, would it be wise to put it on, so he would remember her?

Sam decided it would be for the better and put her hair up with the jell-o, making sure that she didn't look away from Flint's slumbering face. When she was done, she rested her hands on Flint's cheek, gently stroking it and humming a quiet lullaby to herself. Hopefully this wouldn't wake Flint.

They, boyfriend and girlfriend, sat like that for what could've been minutes or hours, until finally one of Flint's eyes fluttered open.

He glanced at the familiar-looking girl, and a look of confusion came over his once calm features. This was the girl he was trying to remember, right? Red/orange hair, green eyes, flawless features, yeah this was her all right. But he _still _couldn't remember her darn name!

"Flint?" the stranger said softly, taking her hands off of his face. He frowned, and then her name came pounding back to him. _Sam Sparks._

"S-Sam?" Flint said hoarsely, wondering if he had gotten her name right. Apparently he had scored, because she smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, it's me. The doctors said you had amnesia..." She trailed off, searching him with her eyes. Flint shrugged.

"I...I don't know. I don't remember anything before I got here," he said honestly, playing with a strand of her hair. It simply fascinated him, and the inventor managed to make his girlfriend blush lightly.

"Oh. Well, you might not want to know about it then..." Sam hesitated, twiddling her thumbs and nervously looking away from him. Flint frowned again, and poked her cheek.

"C'mon, it can't be that bad, right?"

Sam looked at him, unsure, until she finally sighed and smiled. "Ok. Uh, you were kidnapped by some jerks and beat up, then held for ransom, and I came and got you in ChewandSwallow, then we got on the medical helicopter and one of the doctors stabbed you with a needle, and then you passed out. So here we are," she explained hurriedly, glancing at him curiously.

Flint was silent for a moment before finally nodding, remembering the horror. "Oh, yeah. Are you Ok, too?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Flint." Then her face contorted into a look of worry. "But, are you Ok? You shouldn't be worrying about me; nothing happened to me at all. You were bleeding really badly on the way back, too."

The truth was, his migraine was considerately down to a minor headache. He was still ravenous, but it wasn't as bad with Sam sitting beside him. "Good, actually. I really can't move my arm, but everything else is pretty good."

They both glanced down to his right arm, and found that a black cast was fastened onto his forearm. It only looked like his wrist was broken, or something like that, so it wasn't too serious. Flint shrugged and cautiously sat up, grinning in triumph when he reached his goal.

"You have to be hungry, you've been in this hospital for awhile," Sam said, reading his mind. Flint nodded.

"Yeah, I'm a little hungry. I don't want you to rush yourself, though, Sam. It's really no--"

"Don't worry, I'm getting a bit hungry myself. I'll go get us some food, and you stay here, Ok?" the redhead suggested and stood up, stretching her joints. Flint didn't seem too excited about making his girlfriend get food for him like a maid, but sighed and nodded anyways.

"Ok, but don't push yourself, Sammy." Sam giggled at her nickname and walked out of the room, shutting the door again. Flint relaxed again and smirked to himself. At least he didn't have to wait in line, but it wasn't too exciting that his angel had to.

Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, right?

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**Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, reeeeeeeeeeally shirt chappie. But I'm rushing because I have to pack for my Thanksgiving trip to Atlanta, so WHATEVER. R&R, and have an awesome Turkey Day!**

**;D**

**-Peachuz**


	6. Club Sandwiches xxNormal POVxx

**Me: Yes, yes, I know you're all waiting for the next chappie of H.I.H, no need to get bitchy! ANYWHO, here it is, and make sure to eat plenty of orange-flavored microwaves while you're at it! (they're good for your health! ;D)**

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Sam made her way out of Flint's hospital room and shut the door behind her, smiling in triumph as a nurse passed her by with a curious look on her face. Surprisingly, it was Janet, the nurse from before.

"How is Mr. Lockwood? Does he need some medication or anything?" the young nurse asked, not really sounding like she cared all that much. Sam shrugged.

"I'm going to get him some food. Anything he can't eat?" Janet shook her golden hair and snuck a quick glance at her clipboard, which was still clutched to her chest protectively.

"There are no records of--" Sam nodded and ran off to find food before Janet could finish. The nurse raised an eyebrow at her back, shaking her head.

"Sheesh, someone's in a hurry..."

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Flint was furiously searching through a closet in his room, shoving past containers with IV needles and those liquid-filled packs, mumbling in frustration to himself as he looked for his clothes. The _extremely _short hospital gown was getting on his last nerves, and he had to find some real clothes before he went absolutely insane.

Unfortunately, Sam was just walking in with two club sandwiches, a vanilla latte, and a good ol' fashioned Coca-Cola. The weather girl let one of her eyebrows arch dangerously high as she saw her boyfriend disappearing in a mountain of medical supplies.

"Uh, Flint?...What are you doing?" she asked warily, setting the food down on his unoccupied bed. Obviously, he was either looking for his trademark lab coat, or he was just bored out of his mind. Knowing Flint, Sam went with the latter of the two options. There wasn't much you could invent in a hospital room.

Speaking of the inventor, he poked his head out of the closet and smiled sheepishly. "Um, I was looking for my clothes...ooh, is that a club sandwich?!"

Sam smiled and shook her head. Oh well, she was wrong. "Yeah, your favorite."

"Thanks, Sammy!" Luckily, Flint was hungry enough that the sandwiches were driving him out of the now-messy closet and steering him to the bed. Sam shrugged and grabbed a sandwich and the vanilla latte, settling down in her chair.

"The line wasn't long; it was no biggie." What Flint didn't no was that the young woman had to endure endless, impossibly snide comments about her previous meeting with Sandra while waiting in an extremely long line for her food. But there was no way she would admit that to Flint, right? "Pretty much, no one paid attention to me."

"Well, still. Hey, these are good!" CHOMP!

Sam giggled at the comical sound her boyfriend had made and took a bite out of her own sandwich, instantly sharing his opinion on the food. "Hey, you're right! These are even better than the club sandwiches that came from your food machine!"

Flint rolled his eyes at the accusation. Even though the aforementioned machine had nearly destroyed his entire town, his family and "friends", it had made some_ really _good food. There was no other food like it, especially the club sandwiches. "You just keep thinking that, Sammy. You just keep thinking that."

Sam playfully shoved his arm and smiled at him, taking a sip of latte. "Ah, don't be mean, Flint. You know it's the truth."

"Let's agree to disagree, shall we?"

"Sure, sure."

The two lovers smiled at each other and continued on with their meals in silence, simply enjoying each other's company. Sam mind was wondering to her little "reunion" with Sandra, and how mentally screwed up the girl was. Jeez, Sam had really tried to forget the evil-minded brunette as her high school years had ended, hoping that if she got a cheap little job as a preppy weather girl, then all her past problems would just fade away like graphite with an eraser.

Well, of course, nothing could really go right in her life.

Flint, on the other hand, was pondering about where the hedge Steve was, so he piped up with, "Speaking of animals, do you know where Steve is?"

Sam stopped in mid-bite and shot a glance at the inventor, narrowing her eyes. "Well, that was completely and utterly random."

"So?" Flint replied, shrugging ever-so nonchalantly. Sam casually rolled her emerald eyes and wrapped half of her club up.

"Anyhow, Steve is still asleep in the Animal Ward. The docs said he should be awake by tomorrow, presumably," Sam said, peering with one eye down into her styrofoam cup, frowning slightly when she discovered the creamy liquid had disappeared. "No worries."

"Hm."

Again, a heavy yet comfortable silence filled the space around the couple and they both began to nestle into their..._respective _minds when out of nowhere, a loud knock made Sam literally crash through the roof in surprise. Seriously, she jumped out of her chair and almost touched the ceiling.

"GAH!" the redhead cried as she fell to the floor, groaning once again as her head collided violently with the linoleum. "Sheesh, knock a little louder, why don't ya?!"

Flint bumped his head on the railing of his bed and mimicked Sam's earlier groan, both of the wounded adults glaring angrily at the acursed door. Sam spat through gritted teeth, "Come in."

A pleasant-looking doctor walked in with a clipboard similar to Janet's, and smiled heartedly at them. "Very sorry to disturb you, but I'm Dr. Cristine. It's time for Mr. Lockwood's medication."

Sam had too much manners to voluntarily cuss out a doctor, so she bit down quite forcefully on her bottom lip and muttered, "Okay."

Dr. Cristine smiled again and set the clipboard down on a chair, taking blue medical gloves out of her coat pocket and snapping them on. She went to the closet and raised an eyebrow at the mess. Obviously, someone had been looking for something in the poor closet. Therefore, Dr. Cristine dove in and managed to bring out a piece of paper.

Both Sam and Flint shot each other looks, but kept quiet as the woman took a needle out of the cabinet hanging over one of the sinks. She also grabbed a miniature pack of disinfectant wipes, and walked back over to the couple.

"Alright Mr. Lockwood, would you like it in your right arm or your left?" the raven-headed professional asked while putting the paper on the clipboard. Flint shrugged and pointed to his right. "Very well."

Dr. Cristine swabbed the area on his upper-right arm and Sam smiled at Flint. "Once you're knocked out, I'll go see how Steve is doing, Ok?"

Flint smiled at his determined girlfriend and stroked her cheek with his free arm. "Sounds good to me, Sammy."

The inventor was surprised when the long needle was stabbed into his arm, and he almost winced. It didn't really hurt; it just caught him off-guard. He began to feel just a bit drowsy, and Dr. Cristine pulled the hospital gown fabric back over him arm.

"All done. I'll leave you two some privacy," Dr. Cristine said politely and picked up her clipboard, disposed of the needle and disinfectant, and stepped quietly out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Sam glanced at Flint as his eyelids began to droop a bit and he yawned hugely.

"Getting sleepy already?" she chuckled and pecked his cheek, standing up. "Guess that means it's time for ol' Sammy to go check up on Steve, huh?"

Flint nodded sleepily and began to drift off into dreamland happily, and Sam exited his room, anxious to see how Steve was. It was going to be a long day for the redhead.

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**Me: Wow, finally, I updated! MWUHAHAHAHAHA! Anywho, review puples, and I will update again! Peacuz!**

**-Peachuz!**


	7. I'm Off to See the Injured iiSam's POVii

**Me: ZOMG, everyone, I am TERRIBLY sorry for not updating soon enough. For one, I was a bit depressed at the homicide (murder) of my favorite cousin, who was only 12, and the peaceful death of my great-grandmother. In fact, I'm going to GG's funeral on Wednesday, March 24. So yeah.**

**But, I am satisfied to say, the next chapter of HIH is back, baby! So get ready to please your...um, eye taste buds? O.o Oh well, continue reading!**

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(Sam's POV)

I made my way to the reception counter, determination clearly shining in my eyes. The receptionist put a finger up as she explained something into the phone, and I waited impatiently.

Finally, after what seemed like twenty minutes, she ended the call and smiled with forced charisma at me. "Hello. Are you looking for someone?"

I nodded. "I have an...um, pet. He's a monkey, and his name is Steve? He should've come in about a day ago, I guess. The doctors said he was severely injured?"

The receptionist bobbed her head and turned to her computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she searched for any occupants. A genuine smile-though it was small- appeared on her face as a sheet of paper came out of the printer.

"Here you go, ma'am. Steve, resident of ChewandFollow?" My left eye twitched. She glanced over the paper again and blushed a bit. "Oh! I'm sorry, ChewandSwallow. The owner is Flint Lockwood, one of our patients, correct?"

"Yes."

The woman handed me the piece of paper and flipped her pitch-black hair over her shoulders. "Room 162, in the Animal Ward. The doctors are allowing one visitor at a time."

I thanked her and rushed off to where the Animal Ward was-or so I thought. I actually ended up in the morgue, and I huffed impatiently.

"Alright, that didn't go as planned," I said aloud and nearly smacked myself upside the head when I realized there was a map on the paper I was holding, leading straight to Steve's room. "Boy, am I stupid today..."

A few twists and turns later, I was right outside of Steve's room, blocking out anguished cries from various animals. Just as I was about to open the door, a nurse hurried around the corner, her familiar strawberry-blonde hair flying out behind her.

_'Whaddya know, it's Janet,'_ I mused. When she spotted me, her eyes showed visible relief as she skidded to a halt next to me.

"Miss Sparks? A Mr. Lockwood is here to see you, and his son, Flint. He's at the front desk."

Mr. Lockwood...Flint's father was here? I brightened and cast a longing glance at Steve's door before letting Janet drag me all the way back to the reception desk. Indeed, Mr. Lockwood was fumbling with his fishing hat in one hand, the other clutching a picture.

"Mr. Lockwood!" I called out, and he smiled beneath his moustache at me. It was a sad smile, though. "Don't worry, Flint's doing fine. He's sleeping right now, though, and I was just about to go see how Steve was holding up."

Mr. Lockwood nodded and said, "Can you take me to Flint? I know he's sleep...but...when a fish has to find its spawn, they--"

"Okay, I get it," I interrupted before he could start into some confusing fish metaphor. We both practically ran back to Flint's room, and by the time we got there, I was panting and wiping sweat from my forehead from all the running around I had done in the past thirty minutes. "You...can go in...without me."

Mr. Lockwood nodded once again and disappeared into Flint's room. I collapsed on the cold tiles, breathing heavily. I was so not used to all this unecessary physical activity.

About two minutes later, I stood up, refreshed and ready to go visit Steve. This time, I walked casually back to the Animal Ward, passing by random doctors and nurses that ignored me as well. I stopped in front of Steve's door and took a deep breath before opening the door.

In a hospital bed way too big for him, there was my favorite monkey, his eyes closed and his little furry chest rising and falling steadily. Thankfully, the doctors hadn't removed his translator, and luckily the brutes that did this to him hadn't damaged it too much.

I stood next to Steve's bed, stroking his brown fur affectionately. He looked completely out of it, which I could understand. I still wanted to twist the brutes' organs into little knots for doing this to my favorite people in the universe-and animal.

Apparently, I spent some time stroking Steve's fur, because a male doctor poked his head in. "Miss Sparks? We need to give Steve his pain killers."

I thought about refusal, but instead sighed lightly and patted Steve's head before turning back to the doctor. "Sure. Just...just don't hurt him, alright?"

The doctor smiled assuringly. "Ma'am, it's our job to not hurt anyone. Animal, or human."

I nodded and stepped out, running a hand through my orange hair. I had seen both Flint and Steve, and Mr. Lockwood had been alerted and was here...but why did I feel like I was forgetting something? I frowned and rubbed my chin thoughtfully.

_'Hm...Flint and Steve are doing _relatively_ okay...Mr. Lockwood knows...MANNY!'_ I tripped over my own two feet as I hastened down to the lobby, crashing into a nurse. Her numerous papers went flying all over the hall, but I didn't have time to stop and help her.

"Oh, sorry!" I yelled over my shoulder. I made record time making it to the lobby, and collided with the receptionist desk. "Hey, can I use the phone? I need to call a friend!"

The same receptionist from before looked startled at my sudden appearance, and warily pointed to the phone. "G-go ahead..."

"Thanks!"

I dialed Manny's number faster than you could say "crazy" and put the phone to my ear, listening anxiously as the ringing continued. "Come on...pick up...pick up..."

A female voice answered. "Hello?"

"Is there a Manny there?" I asked, a little bit too fast.

"Yes," the woman said. I heard her yelling in the background. "Manny!"

Some tensed seconds later, he said, "Hello?"

"Manny! It's me, Sam!"

Surprisingly out of character, he chuckled. "Ah, Sam. How are you, girly?"

I rolled my eyes, knowing full-well that he couldn't see it. "I should be the one asking you that! How are you?"

"Nothing too bad. I'm almost fully-recovered, so your old cameraman will be back in action a couple days."

I sighed in relief. It felt like five-hundred tons had been lifted from my shoulders. "That's great, Manny. I can't wait to see you back at work again. Hold up well, okay?"

"Aye-aye, girly."

"Thanks, Manny. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye."

I hung up the phone with a satisfied expression on my face, and the receptionist looked over me curiously. "Is your friend doing well?"

"Much better than he was a couple of weeks ago. I'm just glad everyone I know is okay." I closed my eyes for a moment, suddenly very tired. "By any chance...do you have any...spare beds? I'm getting a bit sleepy."

The receptionist smiled. "Of course. In the Guest Ward. There are many unoccupied beds there, for people just like you. If you need some pillows or extra covers, just tell any nurse there."

I thanked the receptionist again and headed off to the Guest Ward, my eyelids drooping.

I had had a long few days, and it was time for me to get in some well-deserved sleep.


	8. Thoughts xxNormal POVxx

**Me: Yea, yea, yea, people, don't get your panties in a bunch. =.= I'm not completely giving up on this story, it's just I'm having a really hard time finding inspiritation, and I've been writing random one-shots to save in my DM. =P But, whatever. Ooh, ooh, I might have a small little contest at the end of this for one of those one-shots I was talking about...stay tuned for more details, cheesecakes!**

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(Narrator's POV)

It was downtime in Manhattan, New York. Even the speeding cars on the numerous highways seemed to be slowing down, if only for one single evening. As we tune in to our favorite gang from ChewandSwallow, we find everyone off vacationing in slumber land. Sam had been peacefully resting in the Guest Ward for several hours, and occasionally a nurse would come by to check up on her, to make sure nothing bad had happened to the exhausted redhead.

Flint was asleep in his hospital room as well, one arm hanging off the side of the bed and the covers messily strewn across the metal bed. It made every nurse who stopped by laugh quietly.

Steve, not surprisingly, was dreaming happily about gummy bears in the Amazon Jungle (please, don't ask) and Mr. Lockwood was slumped in one of the shockingly-comfortable lounge chairs, none daring to bother the man.

Everything was peaceful and serene, the kind of atmosphere hanging over the hospital that made you want to cuddle up with a fluffy teddy bear and a soft blanket, temporarily shooing away all the worries and problems in a human's life.

Naturally, though, a scene like this certainly couldn't last forever.

Around four o'clock in the morning, Flint's father bolted upright, startling our favorite nurse, Janet, who was just coming in from her well-deserved break. She put a hand over her heart and breathed out in relief, "Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Lockwood; I should have shown you one of the guest rooms."

Mr. Lockwood was in a daze for a moment, then shook off any remaining traces of drowsiness, smiling beneath his furry moustache at the young nurse.

"No...it's okay. I'm fine."

Janet nodded, still concerned, before heading to the back room, getting ready for the long and tiring work day ahead of her. Mr. Lockwood rubbed his thinning--not bald people, thinning--head and calmed down, sighing heavily.

His own son was in the hospital...because he had been beaten practically to death and halfway back. It wasn't something he had ever planned happening in his lifetime. No father really planned it happening, he supposed.

But how could it happen to Flint? It seemed that his son always had some sort of trick up his lab coat's sleeve, naturally making Mr. Lockwood not worry about him so much. Well...that was a lie. He often worried about his offspring.

After all, Flint was picked on a lot as a kid, and still did, to a length. It was like the inventor was a prime target for the cruel things of the world. First his mother passing away, then the food incident back home, and now this? Apparently, nothing harsh would steer clear of Flint.

Mr. Lockwood sighed yet again and stood up, heading towards the hospital doors. He exited the building, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of city life and the morning air combined. The man liked it somewhat, finding it oddly soothing.

He trudged along the sidewalk, drowning in his own thoughts and concerns. Mr. Lockwood didn't notice the blue BMW trailing behind him steadily and quietly, earning glances from anyone up and about but drawing no further attention.

As Mr. Lockwood turned a corner, the blue BMW sped up and zoomed by, just as two patrol cars passed by. Mr. Lockwood looked up to see a small, cozy-looking café that was open. He stepped inside, the scent of mocha filling his nostrils.

He ventured over to the counter, spotting an elderly woman placing a fresh rack of blueberry muffins inside the display case. She smiled at him, the wrinkles on her face tightening.

"Hello. Quite the early riser, aren't you?" she said in a soft, aged voice. Mr. Lockwood nodded, and eyed the rows of different muffins hungrily. The elderly woman noticed this, and laughed heartily. "Here, since you're the first customer of the day--and you look awfully tired--you can have a free muffin. Which kind would you like?"

Mr. Lockwood blinked, and replied, "...Poppy seed, please. And a macchiato, if you don't mind."

The elderly woman nodded and set to work, pulling out a warm poppy seed muffin and placing it on the counter. As she went about getting his macchiato ready, the old-timer faintly wondered why he was out and about so early. It was common among Manhattan's residents, but he didn't appear as if he was from around here.

She decided to keep her curiosity to herself, and happily handed him the macchiato. "That will be seventy-five cents for the muffin, son."

Mr. Lockwood fumbled around in his pockets, and handed the woman a single. Taking the beverage and snack, he said gratefully, "Thank you. Keep the change."

He walked over to a small table by the corner window, placing his mini-meal on the surface and relaxing in the chair. He observed out the window thoughtfully, seeing Manhattan begin rising. The resident of ChewandSwallow released a sigh one final time before biting into the muffin, not being able to concentrate on the flavor. There was that question that was running a continuous marathon in his brain, and it wouldn't allow him to focus on much else.

Would everything go back to normal after Flint got out?

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**Me: Yosh, I am a huge procrastinating freak. And I know this was a REALLY short chappie, but I had to focus a little bit on the father of the victim, now wouldn't I? I guarantee--this time for real--that the next chapter won't be in two months! Probably about a week or so, or whenever I'm not booked with assignments.**

**Ja ne!**

**~Peachuz =3**

**Next chapter: Release**


	9. Act I Finale iiFlint

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**Me: Wazzuh, party peoples? =D You ready for a new installation of HIH? Welp, I am, so even if YOU aren't, tough cheese sticks!**

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(Flint's POV)

Today was the day I finally got to get out of this godforsaken hospital. Whoop-dee-do.

Yeah, now you all probably think I'm being sarcastic. No, it's just it's a little hard to be excited, because I know that Sam can't stay with me forever. She had a job here, in Manhattan, and Dad, Steve, and I had to go back to ChewandSwallow to make sure nothing happened to the house, or my lab.

So I was feeling a bit down-in-the-dumps. As a kind doctor named Emma gave me one final check-up, I wasn't exactly paying attention to all the medical terms. It was getting confusing, even for an inventor.

"...and so, that's why you won't be able to invent anything for a few weeks, alright Flint?" she finished, and it took a few seconds for her latest sentence to sink in. My eyes widened, and I rudely interrupted her next words.

"Wait...I can't invent anything for a few weeks?" I cried out, beginning to panic. I couldn't invent anything? That was my whole deal! I invented stuff, and tampered with it, and sometimes showed it to my dad or Sam! "Whaddya mean I can't invent anything?"

Dr. Emma seemed like she was used to getting interrupted, and answered both my questions. "Yes, you won't be allowed to invent anything for about three weeks. Simply put, I'm not certain if anything you invent might corrupt the healing process, or if you'll get injured during working. So no inventions. But on the bright side, look forward to a couple of weeks of rest and relaxation."

R&R? I didn't want R&R! I wanted to keep inventing stuff! (Even if sometimes, that stuff hardly worked...)"But...w-what about...aw, nevermind. I think I can survive...thanks anyways, Dr. Emma."

Dr. Emma smiled and stood up, pushing up her wire-frame glasses. She spoke, "A nurse will be here soon to guide you out. Be careful, Mr. Lockwood, and make sure to come back in about a month so I can remove your cast."

Fortunately, I had gotten away with only having to leave with a cast for my broken wrist. Everything else was doing great, I guessed. Dr. Emma left, and the room was silent once again.

I sat in the hospital bed, my lab coat and the rest of my normal clothes on my body and a sad aura surrounding me. How much more time did I have with Sam?

-oxxXOXxxo-

A few hours later, we-Sam, me, Steve, and Dad-were all sitting in Sam's living room, discussing what the next step was.

Dad wasn't leaving Manhattan until I did, which made me feel nice inside. Sam and I were gonna go down to this restaurant later that week and spend some desperately-needed time together. Dad wanted to check out this fishing place, and Steve would go with him-there was also a shop that sold gummy bears where my father was going.

I really didn't want to leave, but I knew we couldn't stay in a fairy tale forever. So Dad, Steve, and I were heading back on the following Friday. Which meant I only had nine days to spend time with Sam. Which sucked. A lot.

I didn't state my opinions aloud, though, because I knew that Sam already felt that way. So instead, all three of us (I don't think Steve fully understanded the situation) went to bed with heavy hearts and gloomy-looking futures.

-oxxXOXxxo-

As I stated earlier, Sam and I were at a restaurant that week. It was an Italian one, and I hadn't had spaghetti and meatballs since the Great Food Incident back in ChewandSwallow. Sam, not wanting to be too badly reminded of those chaotic days, simply ordered pizza. I know, so original.

We really didn't have much to say, because I was drowning in my own mini-depression, and Sam was in her own world. I twirled the spaghetti around my fork, untwisting it and repeating the process over and over. Oddly enough, I hadn't even touched the meatballs.

Sam finally spoke up after a long, tense silence. "Flint..."

I looked up from my food, raising an eyebrow to let her know that she could continue. Sam picked up her piece of pizza and frowned slightly at it, before setting it back down and sighing.

"What's going to happen when you guys leave? It was pure unfortunate luck that you were kidnapped, and then I got to save you...but who knows when something like that will happen again? I don't want you to get hurt, and I don't want you to leave...oh, Flint, what are we going to _do_?"

I hated seeing her like this; in despair, pleading, and so utterly sad. I sighed as well and brushed back a strand of carrot hair from her eyes.

"We're going to survive, Sam. I love you too much...maybe we won't see each other for awhile, and maybe I won't get to hug you for awhile, but I can call you. I can't guarantee that I can visit you...though I really have nothing else to do..." Sam laughed softly at that. I smiled. "...but just know that I won't stop loving you until the day I can't invent anything."

"...Flint, I want you to know that that was really cheesy."

"Yeah, Dad has a couple of romance books back home. I may or may not have leafed through a few."

Sam poked my forehead, and said, "I love you."

"Love you too."

After that conversation (and yes, readers, I do indeed know that my words were ridiculously cheesy) we went to a little park and spent time with each other there. I had my head in Sam's lap as we laid on a hill, the garnet blades of grass tickling my sides. The sky was a perfect shade of blue, the puffy ivory clouds drifting by without a single care in the world. I occasionally pointed out the different shapes in the endless cerulean canvas, and sometimes, Sam would, too.

"Hey, look! A fat clown with his pants pulled down!" I called out, and Sam lazily rolled her eyes towards the sky. She pursed her lips.

"Looks more like a hot air balloon to me."

I scratched my head. "Yeah...okay, fine, we'll say it's both."

Sam smiled lightly, patting my forehead lovingly. I may have not had a long time left with Sam in Manhattan, but I knew that I would always remember this day...and Sam would, too.

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**Me: No, psychos, the story isn't done yet. -.- Part ONE is done, now onto Part Two. Yep, bet you weren't expecting that one, huh? x3 More development with Flint and Sam's relationship in the next part, as well as father and son bonding and inventor and monkey bonding. ^^ Yes, the ending sucked, get over it.**

**Part Two is going to be up around July 4, or right after Independence Day. My school district JUST started summer yesterday (don't even ask why), and I have a little baby cousin coming from Germany to stay until September, and I have a busy schedule until July. So sit tight!**

**~Peachuz =]**


	10. Act II Emilia iiSam's POVii

**Me: Alrighty, people! I know this is a bit late, but here it is; Part Two of HIH. We'll get to find out who is in that suspicious BMW, and it's going to start out in Sam's POV. So stick around and begin reading, foos! Ooh, and instead of writing (Blah's POV) it'll be [Blah]. Another thing, I recently came back from England for visitng my grandmother, and please forgive me if I spell words like 'color' with a 'u'. It kind of rubbed off on me. x3**

**Disclaimer: As you should know by now, I have no rights to CWACOM.**

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_**Act II**_

**[Sam]**

Four months.

Four months since I had seen any of the residents of ChewandSwallow. Four months since I had been alone, depressed, lost. Four months since a part of me had flown away.

It started out as a normal Monday in Manhattan. I cracked my eyelids open, rubbed sleep out of my eyes, shuffled to the bathroom, back to the kitchen, and finally the garage. My eyes were downcast as I started up my car, the door sliding up quietly to reveal the fast and speeding world of New York. I drove out of my property and down the street, passing by the coffee shop I usually went to.

The inside was deathly silent as I headed further away from my place of living, towards my daily work. It would be the normal situation; do the weather, run around getting mocha for my coworkers, spend a long day doing practically nothing, report the evening weather, and leave. I had actually started looking forward to this monotonous cycle, for it got my mind off of you-know-who.

Manny, faithful as ever, had remained my trusty cameraman, but he could tell that something was wrong. Even though he would never express these opinions aloud, I could see it in his withering gaze. That concern and pity that I didn't want nor cared for.

Some could call me selfish for wanting Flint back, and not assuring the people who were closest to me that I would be alright. Luckily, I didn't have that many acquiantances in Manhattan, so not a bunch of people could question me.

Whenever my boss, Frank Wardon, happened to walk by, he would level me with a look. You could take it as worry, but I saw it as disapproval. For what, you ask? Well, since that day, I have been more anti-social and less like the bubbly weatherwoman everyone needed me to be. Sure, I kept up the image in sake of my career, but it just wasn't the same anymore.

My dad used to always tell me that one day, I could be anything I wanted to be, I could go wherever I wanted to go. I think he was lying to me.

And so, I entered the office building with a blank face, stepped into the elevator, and pushed the 'up' button. When the door was beginning to close, a young woman with short black hair called out to me. "Could you hold it?"

I waited until she was safely inside the compartment, and let the smooth metal slide shut. She smiled warmly at me. "Thank you."

I simply nodded mutely, peeking at her through my eyelashes. I hadn't seen her around before, and trust me, I do take notice of these things. It's not like I had anything better to do.

"Can you tell me where Tanya Daverson's office is? I need to meet her," she asked, and even though I desperately wanted to object, I put up my first act of kindness of the season.

"Yes."

She bobbed her head, and an awkward silence filled the elevator as we travelled up. It was awkward for me, anyways. She regarded me with a calm, collected air, her odd violet eyes seeming to burn into my soul. It made me feel uncomfortable, like I was some kind of animal in the zoo.

Finally, the doors opened on the seventh floor, and we both exited. I wordlessly led her to Tanya's office.

"Thank you, again." She cracked the door a bit, and turned around a little. "By the way, what's your name? I'm Emilia Tino."

"Sam." She smiled once more before shutting it, leaving me by myself in the hallway. Not that that affected me much. I shrugged lightly and walked to my own office, favouring a cup of Hawaiian Punch for some strange reason.

-oxoOXOoxo-

One Saturday afternoon, I was watching television and sipping pink lemonade. The air conditioning was on, for it often became hot. It was summer, after all. I had on a pair of light purple bermuda shorts, and a white t-shirt with the picture of a lavender question mark.

A knock on the door made me pause, for I wasn't expecting any visitors. Manny was in Mexico for the weekend, visiting relatives, and I didn't know anyone else. I went to the door and was surprised when I was met with Emilia's grinning face.

"Hey! You remember me?"

I blinked in confusion. "You're...Emilia, from work. How..."

"Did I find your house?" she finished with a laugh. "Someone named Sandra told me, and you seemed pretty lonely. So...how about some ice cream?"

I barely even knew her, she knows where I live, and now she's requesting that I go get some _ice cream_ with her?

...Maybe I could start to like this girl. I probably needed to get out of the house, anyways. I agreed and put on my shoes, turning off the TV. Emilia and I headed to the local ice cream shop, a family-owned place called Napilleo's.

"Good afternoon, what would you like?" the man at the counter questioned politely. I ordered two scoops of cookies-and-cream, while Emilia wanted butter pecan. Once we had our frozen dairy treats, we sat outside, watching the waves of the Hudson River. It was shockingly soothing.

"So, Sam. Do you have any family in Manhattan?" Emilia asked nonchalantly, taking a lick of her ice cream. I leaned back in my chair, thoughtful for a minute.

"No. My mother and brother live in Albany, and the rest of my family lives in Scotland. My dad died when I was little."

"Jeez, I'm sorry."

I shook my head; I really didn't want anymore pity. "Don't be. It's not your fault that he died, so there's nothing to be sorry about."

"No, I just felt bad, because I bet a lot of people tell you they're sorry for your dad's death. I'm sure you don't need the pity, huh?" Emilia chuckled, her short midnight locks fluttering in the breeze. I smiled half-heartedly.

"Yeah." We chatted for a bit, until the sun was starting to die in the sky. Our ice cream (and the cones) were long gone, and we stood up in sync. Emilia said, "This was fun...you busy tomorrow?"

"Not really."

"Cool. Um, so I guess I'll see you then, eh?" I nodded. Magically, we had already arrived at my front porch, and it was nighttime.

"I guess you will. It's getting dark...do you need a ride or something?"

Emilia rejected the offer with a wry grin. "How do you think I got here?"

In the dim light of the street lamp, I saw a cranberry-red 2011 Honda Pilot. Wow...pricey. "Oh."

"Heh, yep. Later!" She hopped in the car and drove away into the evening, and I went inside my house. I didn't spot the familiar blue BMW hiding in the alley right to the side of my home, nor did I notice the ominous glint of glasses in the moon from the driver seat.

I also didn't spot the impending danger just around the corner in my future, either.

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**Me: Mwuahahha, now you're all pissed at me for not telling you who's in the BMW. x3 But don't worry, there's a reason I brought in Emilia. It all ties together for the finale...just you wait. The next update will be soon, don't worry! Ja ne.**

**-Peachuz =]**


	11. Hot iiSam's POVii

**Me: Aloha, readers of fanfics. =P Since it's amazingly hot where I live, I've decided to cast this terrible fortune on Manhattan. Sorry for not updating sooner, laptop is acting weird, as you'll find in the A/N at the bottom. ^^ So until then, enjoy this chappie!**

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**[Sam]**

It was 109°. My hair is plastered to my face, and I think I'm going to die of sweat overload or something weird like that. I had barely made it to work today, and the worst part was that the air conditioning was broken.

Everything was sluggish. The elevator seemed to move ten centimeters an hour, and nobody could get any work done. I trudged to the meeting room, collapsed in my chair, and waited for this horrible nightmare to finally end. Emilia was already there, and she looked worn out. Well, you would be, too, if it was a giant oven in your city.

"Sam," she moaned, laying limp against the sticky table. "What are we here for?"

I mumbled, "Something about a special report."

Soon, everyone had piled in, which made it even hotter with all the body heat. Frank Wardon stood at the front of the room, and you know it's bad when your neat-freak, tip-top boss is appearing exhausted and droopy.

"Alright," he spoke loudly. "There is an accident on the highway, and we need to get there first. You all have to come, because we need coverage on everything; injuries, damages, costs, even weather."

I smashed my face onto the smooth surface of the table, in sync with the many groans of complaint that echoed throughout the meeting room. We had to go outside, in blistering heat, and get proper news?

Why did I have to come? Who wanted to know what the weather was when an accident occured? They already knew it was hot, so there really was no point in me even being there. But Frank decided that was the end of the meeting, and we were to get to this highway ASAP.

I met Manny in the lobby, and wasn't surprised to see his cap still on. He wore that thing rain, shine, snow, hail.

"Ready to go, Manny?" I asked tiredly, and he nodded silently. We exited the building, and climbed into the van, with the Channel 8 logo on the side. I started up the engine, and both of us sighed in relief when the AC blasted us. I turned it up full-throttle, and we followed the other vans down to the sight.

Once there, we climbed out of the heavenly vehicle and I was astounded at the grotesque scene.

One silver car was overturned, the window smashed in and shards of glass littering the pavement. The right side was dented so far in that you could fit a dead body in it, but I couldn't see any driver. A red semi-trailer had skidded into the grass on the side, the cab practically bent into the trailer. One of the rearview mirrors had flown dramatically, and ended up in the windshield of a black Hyundai. I grimaced - along with most of my coworkers - at the crimson liquid splattered across the highway, and swallowed down a vile taste.

Then the familiar sounds of interviews sprung up.

"When did this happen?"

"Is anyone hurt?"

"Are there any eye witnesses?"

"Who's responsible?"

I released a sigh, and took the microphone from my loyal partner. Manny started the signal, and right when I was about to say my regular line, the squeal of tires alerted us all. We turned around, and saw an all-too-familiar blue BMW speeding towards none other than me at a dangerous rate. My eyes widened, and I faintly heard the thud of the mic as it hit the ground.

I knew that people were shouting for me to move, but it seemed like my feet were permanently apart of the earth. The car was only a few yards away when somebody tackled me out of the way.

I half-expected it to swivel around and run us over, yet it kept going, and soon, it was just a dark dot on the horizon. A crowd gathered, but I shook off their offers for medical attention and looked to the person who had saved me.

Emilia.

"You alright, Sam?" she asked, helping me up.

"Yeah." I couldn't think of anything else to say, and then I noticed a white slip of paper on the rocky pavement. I picked it up, and glanced it over quickly.

_The beginning of the end, Sparks. Be careful._

_-Numbers_

I blinked in confusion, and wanted to tear my hair out while screaming to the heavens above. The blazing heat was long forgotten, because who else would be 'Sparks' who's getting stalked by some group called 'Numbers'? I had a feeling that this also wouldn't be the last note, either. Maybe I watched too many crime shows.

Surprisingly, no one asked what the piece of paper in my hands was, and soon, things returned to normal. Despite Emilia, Frank, and Manny's objection, I did my weather report and headed home directly afterwards without so much as a good-bye to my coworkers.

As I laid in my bed, staring up at the gloomy ceiling, my thoughts drifted back to Flint. When would I get to see him again? I missed him, I missed Steve, heck, I even missed Mr. Lockwood. They were like my family, and being apart from them made me feel isolated in the world. It was a lucky thing that I had Emilia and Manny on my side. I would have gone insane.

I rolled over, pressing my face into the pillow, and clutched the sheets tighter. I never thought that life could be so cruel to humans when it felt like it. What about the note the blue BMW had unceremonially dropped on the highway for me. Who let them by? Wasn't the highway supposed to be closed off because of the gruesome accident?

Where was the justice in that?

With so many worries and nagging feelings swimming around my brain, I slept fitfully, tossing and turning throughout the night and often waking up in a sweat. The next day continued in a slow fashion, and I could only hope for one thing.

That things would turn out alright, eventually.

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**Me: Short chappie, I know, because my computer is being a prick and keeps cutting off in the middle of crap. Luckily though, my uncle is on his way to fix it, so I should be okay in a few days. The next chapter's gonna focus on our ChewandSwallow gang, to give Sammy a break. ;) Be there!**

**Ja ne.**

**-Peachuz =D**


	12. Trash Work

**Authoress's Sad Tale**

To the very dear fans of my story, Honey I'm Home, I'm very sorry to say that I've lost all interest in this story and therefore will be deleting it on January 5. I've tried to update it, but it's just not working out like I planned. I hate to disappoint everyone who bothered to read this piece of junk, but enjoy the chapters while they're up, because they will be gone soon. So very sorry about any inconvience this gives you, and if you wanna flame me, it won't exactly matter, because I won't check the reviews anymore.

From the incredibly sad authoress,

OxVanillaPeachesxO


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